Shame, in two acts

Act 1: The Late Sal Tomcat

I was late to meet a friend today, and when I arrived, ten minutes after we agreed, she was clearly annoyed. Not very, but enough to be stony-faced and monosyllabic when she greeted me, and enough that I knew I had made her wait for me, uncomfortably standing at a busy, noisy crossroads, for no reason – and that I do it to her all the time. She accepted my flimsy excuse, which was more of a statement of what I was doing instead of being on time, but I have to admit that the real reason was ‘because I don’t respect you or your time enough to be on time’ – and I felt ashamed. I knew, against my own ethical standards, I had taken the not-given in terms of time and respect. I apologised several times, and yet still the feeling remained.

Before I left to meet her, I decided to finish the vacuuming, even though I knew in doing so, I was going to be late. This knowledge – and I do know it, every time – is simultaneously covered over with a strange kind of denial that it doesn’t matter and the other person won’t mind, or even notice, even when I know it does, and they always do.

This pattern of behaviour is in the form of a perverse combination of feeling over-relaxed, almost deluded in fact, about when to leave, often to the point of wasting time before I leave for my destination, and then a tearing rush to arrive on time, with seconds to spare, wherever I am meant to be. If, for any reason (and it is oh-so rare) I find myself somewhere earlier than necessary, I am compelled to fill the spare minutes with some other task or activity as to not ‘waste’ the extra time, rather than just waiting at the appropriate time and place, for whatever reason I am meant to be there. This usually leads to having to hurry, and often, to being late all over again.

I became curious about this strange compulsion to fill every moment of time with some productive activity. It leads to inevitable lateness as I unfailingly underestimate how long it will take me – and apparently I’m not alone. (As an aside, I found an article (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/11/07/psychology-lateness_n_4229057.html) about different kinds of chronically late people, which explained what’s happening and why… but back to the main story.)

Despite the fact I am late almost all of the time, I’m increasingly embarrassed by my inability to manage this simple task. I realise that my reticence to ‘waste’ my own time being unnecessarily early means I often waste the time of others. It’s not that I’ve just figured this out; it’s that I can’t keep lying to myself about what the problem actually is – prioritising my own productivity, mixed with denial that other people’s time matters as much as mine. And when someone will not collude with me that I am late and their time doesn’t matter, and looks at me with reproach, once again, I feel ashamed.

Act 2: Road Rage

Twice in the last week, my behaviour as a cyclist has been beyond bad tempered, to dangerous, belligerent and occasionally verbally abusive. Again, this is a pattern I can see I have and am not proud of. Not coincidentally it often happens when I am late, and my hurry leads me to be impatient and rude to drivers and pedestrians alike. The adrenaline, the sudden flare of anger, and an aggression I just don’t find in other parts of my life. What is it about the road that brings this tendency out in me?

Having left a few crucial minutes too late, I had five minutes left to get there on time… on the way, as it delayed me by precious seconds, I shouted at the woman running across the zebra crossing. She looked incredulously at me, and pointed out that it was a crossing – and she was entitled to cross there. I looked to a passing cyclist to support me against this clearly in-the-wrong pedestrian, who pointed out that, well, it was a crossing –and I almost swore at them too, before racing off. The whole incident was over in a mere moment, before I was away again. Four minutes left to get there.

When I arrived at my destination – mitra study, of all places – my shame over my behaviour was in full bloom. This was not the first time – and it pained me that if I carried on in this way, it would not be the last. I confessed to my mitra group, and the mitra study leader I respect so much, how I felt – I had to. And as I did, I felt myself flush with embarrassment.

In both these situations, my own actions have led to a level of haste that leads to impatience and aggression, and acts as a conduit for a kind of malicious, vindictive anger I will usually barely admit to. It shows me some of the worst parts of myself, and I cannot pretend they are not there.

Shame is so helpful in cutting through the delusion that when I act in ways that are disrespectful, malicious, mean or otherwise unskilful, it doesn’t matter. Because my actions and their consequences is the only thing that can matter; it is the only thing there is. I begin to understand the power of this discomfort to help me change my behaviour to be closer to my ethical aspirations. These feelings, of hri and apatrapya are there as my protectors, helping me smash through my denial and to helping me bring my behaviour and my beliefs into alignment.

I know shame for some can be an unbearable emotion, and certainly too much of it literally moves me to hide my face from others – but for me, i can sense it’s power to help me head in the direction of my aspirations – towards ethical responsibility, towards subduing these poisons that seem to motivate me against my better nature, and for that, i am extremely grateful.

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The Truth in all its aspects

The title of this blog is queer dharmafaring – but not every post will be about both aspects. I guess I can only come at the dharma from the position of my experience, and sometimes my gender identity or sexuality (yeah baby) will be relevant, sometimes not.

A common dilemma if you have any kind of marginal identity is that you often get the unfortunate choice of having the marginal aspects of your experience unacknowledged, or finding that having that aspect of your identity recognised is as the cost of the rest of your experience and identity – becoming one-dimensional. For People of Colour i imagine this must be even more acute, as its harder for others to erase that ‘difference’ (more on that later). I think of this as being reduced to a cardboard cutout rather than a living person; I’m not interested in a single-issue life (who is?). The dharma life, regardless of the position from which it is experienced, will reflect the shared concerns of all in the dharma life.

Use your mind to make the world

I wrote this after a recent dharma talk about ethics and positive action, or energy. I was exploring the idea of the aware, creative response being one in which you can find a way, come what may, of using what happens to you, or near you, like a martial artist – being creative and wise enough to be able to take the energy of the act upon you, and turn it to the positive, regardless of the intention.

There was a discussion in the talk about the precepts, and in particular whether people found the positive or negative precepts most helpful. For me, i think it’s true that we have to avoid unskilful behaviour as dictated by the negative precepts – but it’s just not enough, it doesn’t go far enough. The thing about rules is that there is a tendency to follow them ‘by the book’, ie to see how you can interpret as the rules in the narrowest sense to not produce negativity, and get away with what you can – but at best, they just leave you at zero. Don’t break the ‘rules’ and produce negative karma, but with no obligation or reason to go any further. And from what i can gather about the spiritual life, unless you’re moving forward, you’re moving backwards, so merely ‘not doing evil’ isn’t going to work.

In contrast, the positive precepts are about practicing a potentially infinitely expanding capacity. There’s that translation from somewhere (maybe bhante, i’m not sure) about metta being ‘friendliness, at its highest possible pitch of intensity’, and i like the idea of that as applied to the positive precepts. spend a moment imagining what it would mean for generosity, honesty, contentment, kindness and awareness to be at their highest possible intensity – of the best examples you’ve ever seen or heard of – and then ever further: even an echo of that makes me rise up in my seat.

In metta practice, the idea of expanding metta to all sentient beings in the universe is an impossible task – but even to try expands our capacity, our ability to be kinder and more generous in more ordinary situations- and it sets our aspiration to try to achieve the impossible against all odds.

I think to try to practice the negative precepts perfectly, in the sense of never ever in any way breaking them in their widest interpretation, is setting ourselves up for failure, and a lot of unnecessary guilt and self-reproach (tho hri and apatrapya of course can help). I feel like to achieve it would involve being completely selfless and beyond all desire – completely abandoning self-clinging. obviously that’s a long way off for most of us, so there is a temptation to feel we are not up to it, and give up.

It’s true we’re not up to it – not most of us, and not yet anyway. But as ever, there’s hope – because to practice means to do something again and again, and to get better at it. Acting on the principle of generosity or kindness or honesty in stronger and stronger ways, strengthens the tendency like a muscle, and means the impossible slowly becomes more possible.

The kind of ethical practice i aspire to is all carrot and no stick, and is far beyond my current capacity. i’m not interested in following the precepts like rules because it makes me a good buddhist and because i should – i want to live by the precepts because i *want* to, when i understand in my heart-mind that there’s no better way to live, for all of our sakes. Currently, i have various desires that contravene the precepts, but i believe in the determined, realistic persistence and encouragement of the dharma to help me actively prefer to make other choices – but starting where i am, and building on that.

Ultimately, in the far-off distance, i aspire to expand the positive precept capacities as far as they could go. i feel like this would involve an act of imagination so great, that it would enable us to decentre ourselves from our own lives – because we would know, and would be able to feel, that when we acted generously for others or out of kindness for others, or was infinitely, completely aware of the way things really are, that we were helping create a world that was better than before, and contained more generosity or integrity or kindness than before – and we would want to do so because we would know we were an inseparable part of that world, and that the world was part of us.

I think in practical terms, the dharma enables us not only to realise that we have the power to generate generosity where there is no reason to do so, or kindness where there is no reason to be kind, but we can also increase our capacity to produce this without limit in a practical, step-by-step way. It is all a working towards, a working towards exceeding our current capacity, beyond the limits of our ‘self’, to become a kind of force that shines like the sun – a supernova of positive energy, newly created, flowing into the world. the negative precepts stop us making things worse; the positive precepts have the potential to take us from where we are now, all the way to bodhisattvahood.

Otherhood

At mitra study recently, with my beloved mitra group, I arrived from work wearing a tie along with my shirt and v-neck jumper. I looked pretty hot, and with a tie (such an intentional signal of masculinity), I was passing pretty well.

I’d been feeling pretty pleased with myself about it all day, a bit of a butch swagger in my step. But now, entering this women-only space, i felt embarrassed, insecure. The fact that I passed more as male (and was doing it so intentionally) meant that I was also marking myself out as different from the group; an outsider. As well as the usual wish for recognition, validation, I felt an unfamiliar tremor of anxiety that i might in fact be too successful… that they would recognise (and therefore validate) my masculinity, my otherness, and in doing so, might reject me.

And there’s the conflict. Through necessity I am in a women’s group, and like us all, I want to be accepted and loved by people I am coming to love, but at the same time I want to be recognised for who i am; as not exactly being a woman, not exactly sharing their experience. Even the language I object to so vocally, ie the collective ‘girls’ or ‘ladies’, is at once a misgendering and term of inclusion and affection. If I’m not a girl, then I can’t be one of the girls. The closeness and intimacy I cherish is attached to a misrecognition, and I wonder to myself: will they be my sisters if I can’t be theirs?

Joining the brotherhood of cis male buddhists (‘cis’ means ‘not trans/gender diverse’ by the way- if you don’t know the word, it’s probably you) isn’t the answer either – or probably, even an option (not that I’ve even asked). This is mainly because I’m not fully transitioning to legally ‘male’ and I’m not likely to, I don’t pass enough, enough of the time, and I’m not confident the ‘male’ sangha is ready to accept anyone but cis guys right now (unless someone’s stealth (ie secretly trans) I don’t know about). It’s also because I feel more welcome and at home in the women’s sangha, and as trans and gender-diverse people also are at the sharp end of patriarchy, it’s a bit more comfortable.  So despite the compromise, I’ve chosen to follow my ordination process here, which means more ‘women’s’ events to come, for the foreseeable future.

It’s a compromise I (and I imagine, my sangha) have to make, because despite the confusing mismatch, I must have a place to practice, and I must have a community to practice with. As time goes on, as I spend more time in it, it’s the sangha that contains the people I’m closest to – the people who I practice with, who support me and I support, who I love. And I need them most of all.

The genderqueer performer, Ivan Coyote (with Rae Spoon), talks about this in-between feeling, living in this unnamed place, and the ‘heart balm’ of love and recognition: (from 0.45-6.03) The words are below but it’s beautifully read so worth watching anyway (and Ivan’s so dashing 🙂 ).

‘… and I realise that the English language is sadly devoid of names for people like me, and I try to cut the world some slack for this every day, all day – and the day after that too. But the truth is, that every time I am misgendered like this I am reminded that I do not fit, that I am not this, and I am not that; I am not seen, I can’t be recognised, I have no name, I am … invisible… and a tiny, little sliver of me disappears. Just a tiny little sliver… but still – all those slivers.’

‘I am a gender failure. You are free to call me trans, and I am proud to lift this name up and hold it right there in the sun, and you would not be wrong – but it still feels like I’m borrowing this word from someone else and it’s not all the way mine, my friend who lent it to me might need it back or they might need it more than me, and really, these are all just words, and words are always imperfect – words are just sounds we make with our mouths that point our minds to things that cannot be fully described in words anyway. I am a writer; so I know, exactly, where words fail us, and I know that a name is not a person; it is just what we have agreed to call them.’

But now, as well as the traditional binary sanghas and how we navigate them, there’s another possibility. The recent birth of the gender diverse group for triratna is so heartening, and it gives me so much hope, as it shows me I’m not the only one, and don’t have to take this journey on my own. Even in London, I have mostly felt quite alone in my sangha as an out genderqueer person, and alone as a buddhist amongst the trans*queers (who sometime worry about why I would put myself in what they perceive, from the outside, as a very trans-unwelcoming, and therefore psychologically toxic situation). It’s not that I’ve ever felt or experienced direct transphobia amongst the sangha, but years of encountering others’ incomprehension, invalidation and (in some cases) mild discomfort or confusion gets a bit wearing.

Sometimes, I feel tired. Sometimes, all I need is a friend who understands. I miss that about having gone forth from queerland towards the sangha. I miss feeling strong and hot and beautiful and loved in a community that loved and recognised me for what I loved in myself, and most of all, I miss the feeling that we could change the world, with each other, for each other. Now, with this new possibility, I am so hopeful that I can combine the dharma that has stolen my heart with a passionate, loving, beautiful queer community that has been my home and family for so long.

‘…and the thing about rarely being seen, the thing about being something else, something other, something not this box, not quite that box either, the thing about always being called words that bounce off of me or fall flaccid, flat at my feet, is what a heart balm it is… when she looks right at me, like she does… how she takes me, takes what she wants and then gives it back to me when she is finished; gives it back to me, better, somehow, more whole, and all the sweeter, because it took so long for me to find myself, to truly live inside all of me.’

There is so much possibility in this new common ground between my buddhist and Queer/trans* worlds – I can feel it already. Even knowing there is an ‘us’ gives me so much energy and courage. I can bring my whole self (whatever that is) to my practice, and be fully a part of the sangha and have peers who understand me – and I can bring my trans friends to the dharma without asking them to leave parts of themselves outside.

As well as being just a not-quite-mister in the sisterhood, I can – we can – also be part of an Otherhood. Those of us from the land outside, who cannot quite fit into categories we did not design but must live with, can find comradeship, friendship, affinity, solidarity. As well as finding and forming our wonky-fitting places in the sisterhood and brotherhood, we can be an otherhood for each other, for  those we love and who love us. We can share our experiences, and create missing aspects of kalyana mitrata we want and need, in order to grow and transform, in order to pass beyond ourselves, for all beings, together.

Queer dharma farer

My name’s Sal. I’m 38 and I’m a queer buddhist. I”m part of the Triratna Buddhist Community in East London, where I’m a Mitra – and ‘friend’ of the community, and i’m pretty damn serious about it – more than about anything else. Cos i want to take my practice further and deeper, I’m training for ordination in the ‘women’s’ sangha. the usual compromise, as mostly they think i’m a woman but i don’t – but i gotta go somewhere and they welcome me in. (and actually i think they’re pretty great buddhist practicioners so apart from the gender misfit, i’m pretty happy about it). Despite now being in part of a ‘women’s community, in terms of gender, I identify as um… transmasculine? Yeah that’ll do. Pretty much nobody knows what that is and i’m tired of explaining.

I’ve spent most of my adulthood embedded in radical queer, trans*positive political activist culture, so I’ve always been a pretty confident genderqueer – and now I’m a Buddhist in a very binary sangha, and it’s a challenge! But I’m drawn to the dharma life in a way I can’t quite control or understand – I can’t not do this. Come what may I am taking this path – or more, it is taking me.

I’ve tried various strategies to try to find a way to integrate these two seemingly incompatible aspects of my life. Most recently its been just trying get over it and ‘work with it’ somehow – basically to compromise in the face of an uncomprehending sangha with a pretty fixed understanding of gender – but aspects of my experience don’t all fit into the nearest acceptable binary identity, being ‘butch woman’. ‘Butch’ covers a lot of it, but can’t contain it; bits spill over the edges. Its a bit of a puzzle – how to fully integrate, and bring my whole self to my dharma practice, while still leaving some inconvenient bits at the binary door.

It’s also a challenge because by compromising through necessity, I feel like I’m leaving my queer/trans family out in the cold, and not standing up for them as well as myself. So much for solidarity, and practicing for the sake of all beings… all beings has gotta mean *all beings*, not just the man and woman beings.

My ethical integrity depends on me doing what i know to be right – so part of the purpose of this blog, other than to pour a love letter out of my heart to the dharma, is to create a space for our dharma lives to develop together as gender diverse people, helping us bring our whole selves to our practice, and starting to open up a trans*/gender-diverse home in the sangha. Yeah!